Of Smoking Dog Treats and Laundry
by GreaterAxelord
Summary: You weren't going to lie: Being a janitor for one of Mettaton's many industries was probably one of your poorer life choices. You continued to regret that decision as you were forced to pull an all-nighter to do the job that was better suited for an aquatic mechanic. However, not all of it was bad! It did introduce you to a rather jumpy, and somewhat adorable, dog monster. (Doggo)
1. Of Smoking Dog Treats and Laundry

You were equally frustrated and impressed, very much so, at the feat and consequential mess in front of you. Someone had managed to lift one of the machines at the laundromat that you worked at and heaved it across the room; its intended target being another washer. The resulting mess was catastrophic and you had been cleaning it up for the past night and day. You never really knew why a laundromat needed a janitor until now. You only had menial jobs: Dust and wash the washers (heh), clean the windows, maintain the bathrooms, and mop the floor every so often. You guessed that you had to add damage control onto that list. Some of the regulars at this particular laundromat reported a muscular female fish monster entering the building. You recalled that they had said that her name was Undyne or something. Since that was the only creature that matched the requirements of picking up one of the massive machines, you wrote her name down onto the "on-site incident" form. It wasn't much, but hopefully it would stop your new boss from chewing you a new ass...again. For some reason, people associate Mechanic with Janitor, something that baffled you along with the intelligent half of the population. Sadly, your boss assumed that you could somehow remove the totaled laundry machine from the other completely destroyed one, drag the thrown one across the room to its original location, and repair both of them. Fucking both of them! You weren't a wrestler for christ's sake! Nothing you could do about it though. All you could do is stop the torrential waves upon waves of water that were pouring out from the destroyed machines and the hole in the wall where the tossed one was first located.

You had finally managed to seal the broken pipes lying underneath both machines when someone had entered the store. The telltale sound of the conveniently placed bell, hooked rather shoddily to the door of the building, signaled you to warn the incoming visitor of the broken machines and the sopping wet floor. Putting your duck tape on top of one of a dryer unit next to your kneeling form, you slowly stood up. Your back ached in protest from being hunched over for the last several hours. Checking your watch, you confirmed that you had basically pulled an all-nighter to fix the watery mess that was the corner of the laundromat. You sighed at the thought that sleep would be impossible tonight. It often came with the varying hours of work that came up from your occupation. Nothing to be done about it after all since you DID sign up for your field of work. Your terrible insomnia didn't really care for your legitimate reasons and nor did your boss.

You turned towards the door just to be met by an interesting and somewhat intriguing sight. Monsters had been freed from their mountain tomb about a year ago and reports of completely different creatures still continued to plague the news. To be honest, you didn't care. It shouldn't be a surprise to some that there were walking skeletons and humanoid infernos when MAGIC existed. One could practically write everything strange off with the simple response of "Because Magic". Yet, people still broadcasted research reports and personal interviews based off of the inner workings of these new creatures. You just saw them as people with colorful appearances...and magic. That was beside the point anyway for you. Thus, it was quite a surprise to you when you were intrigued by the visage of a bipedal humanoid dog monster wearing a spiked collar and a pink muscle shirt adorned with the image of a dog's face. He, at least you assumed it was a he, gave you the vibe that he just wanted to be pet; his frantic searching with eyes that, upon closer scrutiny, appeared to be slightly dull, gave that away. That served as a warning sign that the monster had impaired vision, if not blind. You couldn't help but wonder if having a Seeing Dog for a Monster Dog was technically legal or not. Well, the question wasn't if it was legal, but if it was moral in Monster Culture.

Casting your thoughts aside, you called out to the monster. You had to get the formalities out first before even thinking about establishing the massive and watery problem in the mind of the visitor. Your boss had made it very clear that your introduction was MUCH more important than any potential health hazard. Normally the attendant would be at their post in the laundromat, but everyone but you was given a break until you and solely you fixed the carnage.

"Hello! Welcome to Mettaton's Laundromat! How may I help you?"

His eyes pinpointed your mouth at such an alarming speed that you couldn't help but yelp slightly in surprise. You were sure that the neck wasn't supposed to turn that fast. What made it even scarier was that despite him looking at you, he was seemingly looking through you. His eyes slowly scanned your area, but didn't exactly lock onto anything. That confirmed your suspicious that his vision must be impaired to some degree. He eventually gave up his search and turned towards the window, somehow tracking the movement of the cars flooring by with his head turning with each pass. His vision continued to confuse you, more so than your estimates of the strength required to lift one of the washers. You spoke out again while slowly treading forward, hopefully to confirm your location to the monster.

"Sir, is something wrong? I can educate you as to how to operate these machi-"

You mentally cursed yourself as you slipped forward on one of the many patches of water left from the machines that had been expelling water profusely. You managed to clip your side on one of the machines while bracing yourself for impact with the ground. Of course, sticking your hands out didn't help since they slipped once they contacted the very slippery floor. The resounding thud of your body slamming into the tiles and your ever so loud "Shit" signaled the Dog Monster that you had fallen and landed mere feet in front of him. He had quickly turned around and watched you keel over like an idiot. You were surprised by his first spoken words to you. Like his appearance, his voice was fairly gruff, but it came off more as a facade than anything else. It was oddly charming, resembling what one would hear come from an old war veteran. Charming? Wait, what?

"OH! There you are! I was wondering where you were." He continued to speak, but his voice had lowered considerably to the point that he was practically mumbling to himself. "I don't like it when things don't move."

He seemed too enveloped in his glee to help you get up, so you slowly but surely pushed yourself off of the ground, being much more mindful of how wet the floor was. Your completely soaked clothes didn't exactly help the situation much either. All it served as was another location to mop up more sodding water. It was official: You weren't going to drink or swim in water for the next month or two; something that sucked since you quite enjoyed swimming in the community pool. Scowling over making yourself look like a fool in front of a random customer, you decided to warn him about how hazardous his surroundings were. Having more than one person slipping and sliding around would be unbearable to you. You could only handle so much before breaking your mop in half and using the broken parts to shatter the legs of your "dear" boss.

"I would be extremely careful with traversing the floor here. I've been cleaning up this blasted water for the past day and the floor is quite slippery. If you need any help, I'll be working a mop around the room. Also, if something breaks, please tell me. I don't want to get fired. My boss has a tendency to blame any on-site failures on the staff."

The dog's excitement didn't seem to fade at your quickly souring mood. Either he didn't detect it or he just didn't care. He quickly nodded at your requests before stumbling around the small building. He called out to you from across the room, causing you to slam your head on the top of a washer unit. Actively swearing, you waited to hear what he had to say. You didn't exactly blame him for your series of unfortunate accidents, but you couldn't stifle the anger rising towards the slightly oblivious monster. You couldn't blame your boss, no sir. The last time someone blamed Mettaton for an accident, they were promptly fired; and since almost all of the businesses located in your district were owned by the robotic monster, one would have to move to a different district to find a job where they weren't harassed by him.

"Just remember to move if you come by!"

Remember to move? You had no flying idea as to what he meant by that. It felt rude to press, however. You assumed that it was just him giving friendly advice as to correct work ethics. You certainly didn't want to press either, since it would just be another thing to do that wasn't organizing the wreckage a certain Undyne had made. It was indeed taking you a while. Most of it, however, had been stopping the endless horde of water that had been making your life a living hell. Or ocean, depending. All that was left was soaking up the lake worth of water plaguing the ground and to somehow find someone who could move that broken machine, because there was no way in hell you could do that. You could possibly go through your contact list to see if you could organize a small team of willing participants who could help push the two hundred and fifty pound laundry machine. Better yet, you could use those same people to search for the fish woman who moved the fucking thing.

Content with how well the duck tape was holding, you searched for your mop. Yet, you turned up with nothing. Engaging in a game of hide and seek with your equipment wasn't high on your To-Do List, so you decided to head to the supply closet which served as your break room and storage. Thankfully, you had been working in the Laundromat for at least two years. It was safe to say that your job was secured at the laundromat. It allowed you to lounge around in the supply closet if you needed a break from work. You refused to smoke, so you usually kept a few books with you when on the job. Walking across the building, you managed to get one hand onto the room's door handle before you heard the monster call you out in need of assistance.

"Hey human, I'm having some...uh, I might need some help with this."

Were you bitter, yes. Putting it lightly, you were royally pissed by the ever increasingly stressful ordeals that continued to assault your day(and prior night). It had first started off with getting the call about destroyed property in the laundromat on the day you had specifically reserved for your break. Only one day a year you could request leave and yet,everything had to happen exactly on that one day that you had selected. It had gotten worse when you found that the laundry machines had been smashed for an entire night, leaving a substantial amount of water on the floor. A day later and you were still working. Thankfully, no one had shown up at laundromat until now. You knew you shouldn't be angry at the monster, but the urge to blame something other than fate, or your boss, for your incredibly shoddy luck was of unbending will.

Putting on your, "I SURE LOVE WORKING ON MY ONLY VACATION DAY" face, you carefully sauntered your way to the puzzled creature. Without your mop, you wouldn't be able to do much other then tread lightly. Turning the corner, you could feel your anger slowly fade at seeing his ordeal. You were glad that you weren't the only person who fate was pissing on. The dog monster was trying, and failing, to pry open the door to the machine. After pawing at it fruitlessly, he kicked it in frustration, resulting in him hissing in pain while massaging his foot...Or were they paws? You didn't exactly know. You couldn't help but find the monster's display of uncanny human-like anger adorable. You would've never suspected a monster to have the same mannerisms as a human. You interrupted his faint whining by putting a hand onto his shoulder. That ended up being a terrible idea, for you had frightened him so much that he started running around the building, screaming about "Being pet by something that wasn't there" or something like that. That served to be endlessly amusing to you. He had knocked over several boxes of purchasable detergent squares (in the shape of Mettaton's face, of course) and smashed into the vending machine that normally sold them. You were sure that if he was human, that impact alone would've rendered him unconscious. Yet, he quickly picked himself back up and continued his frantic running. His ceaseless dashing about revealed your broom, which you couldn't help but smile at. Today might just get better, if things continued to go as they were. You managed to hold in your laughter until he slid across the wet surface and crashed into you. Note to self: Dog monsters weigh more than they appear. His impact broke you, physically and emotionally. Despite being knocked onto your ass for the second time that day, you couldn't be having more fun. The monster had quickly calmed and was slowly eyeing you with concern. You must've sounded demonic, with the amount of laughing and wheezing you were doing. Talk about making excellent first impressions. Getting up, he outstretched his paw towards where he thought you were (missing barely by two feet). He was trying, at least.

"Sorry 'bout that. You appeared out of nowhere and gave me quite the scare...Are you ok? Do you humans normally make this much noise?."

You gladly accepted his paw, after about a minute of you trying to catch your breath. Your rolling around on the ground seemed to confuse the poor dog. You didn't want to be the precedent for his viewpoint of all other humans, but you just couldn't-stop-laughing. You weren't exactly able to see his face or him now. Then again, you couldn't see anything due to the tears. His grip was firm as he pulled you up much too quickly, to the point that you spent another minute trying to regain your balance. Dusting yourself off and smiling more than you had in probably years, you felt like becoming more acquainted with the riot that was the dog monster. It was nice to meet someone who could take your mind off work, even if for a few minutes. You felt slightly bad at being amused by his accidental antics, but not remotely enough to actually apologize. He didn't appear to be offended by your chuckling anyway. It didn't do anything to reduce the faint tightening in your chest.

"Just...wow. I mean, not to stick it to you, but that was absolutely hilarious. Glad to know that I'm not the only one tumbling about here. What's your name anyway?"

He jumped slightly at your voice even though he had just helped you up seconds ago. You seriously needed to ask him about his vision if this became a habit since you weren't too keen on calling in an ambulance for a heart attack case. It wouldn't be the first time either, which scared you slightly. An elderly man had arrived around your third week of ever working at the establishment and promptly keeled over from the sudden noises that the machines produced. One hell of a month for you, for all that's worth. Which, to be honest, wasn't much. Your boss at that time wasn't robotic and actually had reasonable expectations. Sometimes, you swore that his accidental death via falling dryer was fate fucking with you. You wouldn't blame it either. Karma had always been a bi-

"Name's Doggo; yours?"

Oh shit, that's right. Before you were contemplating your life as a janitor for that fuse box on wheels, you were talking to this "Doggo". You really needed to get yourself back on track before he magically discovers that you were socializing on the job. Instinctively forming the work facade and burying your true emotions behind it, you quickly dunked whatever hopes of actually enjoying your job into the trash. Work was work, and you could quit any time you wanted. The hard part was always getting a new one and you've had this one for years. Since your past jobs consist of janitorial duties and...(yeah, that's about it), your chances of getting a decently paying job were slim.

"Oh, I'm _. Not much to it. Now, let's get down to business before-"

You glanced around out of habit, before speaking in a voice much lower in volume. He tilted his head in an undeniably adorable fashion while he leaned in closer to hear you coherently. NO! That was exactly what you weren't supposed to think about on the job. Cleaning was so ingrained into your psyche that you were afraid of what your life would be without it and thinking about how Doggo's collar continued to silently beg you to attach a leash and walk him around town would lead you to said unwanted life experience at a much quicker pace than anything else you could think of. Unless you insulted Mettaton in his face, but that would just be recklessly risking your life. More so than you already were.

"-I'm fired for talking to you. MTT doesn't appreciate his workers talking to anyone when they aren't required to."

Huffing from frustration, you put forth your cheeriest voice and prepared to begin the job of someone else. Doggo's ears had slightly pressed back and he was giving you a sympathetic look. His hand, surprisingly, found its way onto your shoulder. Why, you didn't understand. It wasn't his job to worry about your occupation and all of the drawbacks that came with it. It made you feel slightly guilty that you were even revealing that you disliked your job, even if it was with your body language. Bothering him just felt...wrong. You quickly brought the subject away from yourself and back to work. His problem was work, after all. Truth be told, it was just another excuse to continue talking to the monster and to get your mind off your true work.

"SO! You were having troubles with this machine, yes?"

That returned Doggo back to whatever he was having problems before the entire debacle with the running about. He nodded slightly before frantically signalling at the locked hatch to the washer he was attempting to operate. Didn't he know that it required money to open it and to wash a load of laundry? It was as if he hadn't been to a laundromat before. That's when it hit you: He was a monster who had incredibly impaired vision. Of course he wouldn't know about the laundromat. You don't know which of the two factors was the majority. Giving him an understanding smile, which he immediately focused on for about half a second, you pulled out some gold coins from your wallet. Apparently, someone thought it was a good idea for different districts to have separate forms of established currency. Whoever thought that was a good idea deserved to drown in an ocean of laundry. Not clean laundry, no! You meant Soccer Mom for five levels of laundry.

"So, this is pretty basic, but it'll help you with any future visits. The machines here are coined operated. This district runs off of the Gold Coin form of currency. Two gold coins per load. This particular unit is a washer. The dryer units are located to our left, against the wall. Same cost for those machines as well. I would advise that you be extremely careful, since the noise can be startling and the surrounding ground is covered with several inches of water. We can't have you flying around the room again. That's about it, I think. If you have any more questions, just feel free to yell them out. Does that make sense?"

Doggo gave a quick nod and you, pleased with his understanding, forced the handful of gold coins into his paws. His sputtering about refusing the gold was quickly silenced by your hand clamping his muzzle shut. Giving it a quick pat, you quickly left to begin to mop up the Atlantic Ocean. It was clear that he hadn't brought any money with him beforehand, since you were pretty sure that he didn't carry a wallet. You weren't about to perform a shakedown on his leopard-print pants to see if he was hiding it somewhere. Even if he had, you felt that he deserved the coins for just being a source of entertainment for you. He had not only catapulted you out of your horrendous mood, but he gave you something to think about when you weren't working. What that was, you weren't willing to admit. No way were you about to tell yourself that you were growing fond of the slightly oblivious monster and how absolutely adorable he was. You had only just met him and yet, his antics and how easily they cheered you up certainly was...WASN'T something you would be thinking about for the rest of the day. Nu-uh. _No way in hell_. Then again, your watery situation reminded you that you were far from hell and his constant nervous chattering about the vibrations of the machine enforced that he wasn't going to leave your mind anytime soon.


	2. Bonus Chapter

This had to be the longest work shift for you yet. There were two other times you remembered your shift being this tedious: Painting over fire damage on the interior walls and cleaning up the catastrophe that was a thrown washer. Today, though, was long in a completely different sense. It wasn't strenuous in the slightest nor was it difficult; it was just simply boring. All you had to do was stand perfectly straight and point at a new vending machine, which was sporting a slightly more rectangular shape. Mettaton had said that it was a major improvement over the square format. The fool that you were, you had tried to argue. They looked almost exactly the same and the installation process would've costed the laundromat a hefty sum of money. That ended up with him winning (Because he's your boss) and you being posted to point at the "superior" machine all day. You were glad that you weren't fired though. You seriously needed to invest in getting a better job. If you continued on the track you've been riding, unemployment would being approaching fast. For probably the first time in your life, you eyed your mop with wanting. All you sought to do was do your actual job. However, Mettaton's word was always set in stone, or metal, as it were. Thankfully, no one had come by to do their lau-

The bell attached to the door, which you had to fix twice this week already, rung before falling off its mount and clanging against the ground rather loudly. It was quickly accompanied by the sound of metal scraping against metal. That didn't make you leave your position next to the machine. After all, this wasn't the first time the bell decided to dive onto unsuspecting customers. What DID was the yelp that accompanied the bell's impact. You'd heard that voice before, but that couldn't be since you haven't seen him in weeks. You had naturally assumed he had accidentally wandered to this district. To confirm your suspicions, you dashed from your post and hauled ass towards the door. Literally drifting around one of the many machines, you were graced with the image of Doggo trying to pry a fairly large dagger out of the ground. He had managed to pin the bell to the floor with it, thus ruining the bell. Despite how much you tried to get angry at Doggo, you just couldn't. The bell was falling apart anyway. You knew that wasn't the true reason as to why you weren't angry, but you weren't going to admit anything about Doggo. You weren't ready for that yet. This was only your second meeting.

Doggo, in his gruff tone of voice (which you were almost positive was a facade) was grumpily muttering while fruitlessly tugging at the embedded dagger. You would be amazed beyond belief if he removed the dagger on his own. You ween't quite sure how strong monsters really were, but you assumed that he couldn't extract it when it was buried mid-hilt. Then again, he had thrown it into the ground to begin with. He must clearly be strong to a certain degree. It was hard to measure a monster's physical prowess when they were made of magic. You noticed that he had an incredibly large sack of...something next to the door. You assumed it was laundry. To be more specific, it most likely wasn't his. You were sure that he didn't use that much clothes in two a step back, you decided to alert the struggling monster of your presence. He could be a bit jumpy if you got too close.

"Hey Doggo, how's it going?"

Seems that your effort to not disturb him in the same degree as your past encounter was in vain, for Doggo had launched himself into the air so hard that the momentum tore the dagger from the ground. He quickly turned around and focused on your general direction. It took all of your inner restraint to not flinch. He was unnaturally fast for his stature. Another problem was the sharp weapon falling from its trip to the ceiling. While you were worried about the dagger, he apparently wasn't. He just continued to stare at you, with a faint smile slowly spreading on his face once he recognized your voice. Shockingly, he snatched the dagger from the air with incredible ease. It was as if he could see it which didn't make any sense since he couldn't really see you clearly. He inspected the bell with a whimper while you mulled over his sight. You seriously needed to ask him about that. However, he was much faster than you when speaking.

With a flick of his dagger, which rung the bell, he began. "Hello _! I was wondering when you would show up here! Uh, if you wouldn't mind, can you move something? I can't exactly see you right now." His facade of a voice, which you were determined to make him admit, sounded stressed to a degree unheard of before. His eyes frantically searching the room signified that something was up, but you weren't about to ask him that question when other pressing matters were to be taken care of first.

Your urge to ask him about his eyes increased ten-fold with his request. It had been looming over your mind, as well as a few other things involving the dog monster, for the past two weeks and a half. However, you obliged to his unusual request. You waved your hand vigorously in front of your face, which his eyes instantly locked on to. An even large smile formed on his face for a split second, before a look of shame plastered itself onto him. Signaling to the bell impaled on the dagger, he whined softly while continuously apologizing. You couldn't help but feel bad for no reason in particular. Maybe it was because his look of sadness made you feel uneasy and down? Or was it the fact that his soft whimpers reminded you of an injured animal? Whatever it was, you wanted to get rid of it as fast as possible. Grabbing the bell from the dagger, you quickly tossed it behind you. In retrospect, that was a horrendous idea for many reasons. Of of those reasons came back to bite you on the ass a few seconds later when both of you jumped from the resounding clatter of its impact with some of the machines. When he gave you a very suspicious look, you simply smirked. You were just glad you hadn't cut yourself when removing the bell from the fairly large dagger.

You tried to your absolute hardest to keep any scorn out of your voice while talking, but you weren't the best at masking your emotions."I'm trying to get fired anyway, since my job now is officially shit; even more so than it was earlier. Nice for you to drop by though. It's been boring as hell since Mettaton changed my janitorial duties to practically being a sign. I swear, if I have to stand statue still and point at another dispenser again, I'm going to shove that robotic asshole into one of the vending slots and sell him for enough money to get a better education." Your last statement brought up a question to yourself: How much money would you get if you DID sell Mettaton? Probably a fortune since the internal is probably more advanced than the most powerful computers.

Doggo chuckled slightly as he blindly pawed around the door for a minute to find the large sac. After a saddening long amount of time, Doggo finally located the bag and lifted it over his shoulder. You watched in amusement as he "placed it" on top of a machine. However, the bag was half off the laundry machine, so it immediately fell off. He just simply shrugged as he began to input up the settings into the washer. Inserting the coins, he reached into the bag to pull out what you assumed was laundry. What you didn't expect to happen was him swear so loudly that you were sure that the opposing laundromat across the street heard it (which was also owned by Mettaton). How they were opponents, you had no idea. Your first thought was that there was a trap or something inside the bag. Some of the human activist groups had become more aggressive with their attacks, so you could completely believe that they would sabotage the laundry of a monster. You rushed over only to see him pull out a...handful of dog treats? Why were there dog treats in his laundry?

His voice had gotten even rougher and there was a slight growl tailing the end of each sentence. It would've been honestly frightening if you weren't too busy questioning the bag. "Dammit, I must've grabbed the wrong bag again. The others are going to be pissed."

This was the point where you started flailing about while losing your mind. Now, you considered yourself to be one who boasts a constantly stable mentality. You had always been known for your down-to-earth attitude and mental processing. However, the series of confusing events AND conflicting emotions were driving you completely insane for many reasons. One, what was up with his eyesight? Two, why was he so fucking adorable? three, why did he have a sack of dog treats; and four, why did he have an identical sack of laundry that continued to get confused with his other bag? How many times had he done this? Doggo clearly recognized your flailing as confusion and attempted to explain the more obvious things. Thankfully, he started with his bags of laundry and dog treats. You would've gone further into the depths of confusion if he had picked up on one of the four conundrums. You hoped your conflicting emotions weren't too obvious to the dog monster.

"I have this habit...It's something I picked up after my eyesight became like this-" Doggo indicated to his eyes with his paws. The dog treats were still in his hands, so his head was littered with crumbs. He didn't seem to care though. You wondered if you could get a small hoover and just vacuum the bits and pieces off of his fur. Would that be considered harmful? It wasn't like you would be catch his fur ablaze. The image wasn't something you wanted to envision, so you began to heavily focus on his words. "I smoke dog treats to relax myself. I sometimes become too tense for my own good. That's what happens when you can only see moving things. Dogamy recommended it to me as a form of treatment. They aren't that bad, actually! You should try one sometime, since you seem pretty tense yourself."

You had only been partially listening after he spoke of his eyesight. You remember hearing his recommendation, but that was about it. You were given a lot to think about at the time along with your own questions as to what you could and could not do to the dog monster. You were mostly focused on his vision though. Why hadn't you figured it out before? He had been technically explaining it throughout his last visit, with his reminders. Did he expect you to instantly understand what he meant by, "Just remember to move if you come by!"? If he could only see things that moved, then how would he know where he was going? Did he see the ground? So many questions came up with his explanation. Nothing about it truly made sense. But it did explain his vision problems in general though.

You clutched your head in thought and as an external reaction to the sudden revelation, albeit assisted. "THIS EXPLAINS SOOOO MUCH!" You did manage to stop yourself from falling onto your knees. That would've been too dramatic. You cursed your internal love of over-exaggeration and attempted to still your voice.

Doggo tilted his head, a clear sign of confusion. If he continued to do that, you might be able to use him as a metronome. He was rather consistent with his back and forth tilting.. You knew that you were probably a sight and a half though. You probably weren't a good example for the rest of humanity. You mentally hoped that Doggo wouldn't assume that all of the other humans were exactly the same as you. Good thing that he directly asked you right after he became confused. He was on the ball today. In your mind, you wondered if that could happen literally. You felt that everyone needed an image of that in their lives. It would work wonders on the attitude of the general human population. "Wait, you didn't know? I thought you knew about it!"

You decided to skip his inquiry about your perceptive ability and instead asked him a hopefully revealing question. He didn't seem to mind though. In a way, it was almost like he was enjoying the attention. He truly was like a dog in that sense. That thought led to another, and at the end, you had to force the image of you petting him out of your mind. You had always enjoyed the presence of animals. That was to be expected since both of your parents, your two siblings, and most of your cousins were veterinarians. You always enjoyed it when your parents brought a dog home for the adjustment period that would occur after an intense surgery. Sometimes, the family couldn't risk having a wounded animal in their household for some admittedly valid reasons. You knew your resolve was failing fast though. If he continued to be adorable, he was going to be punished with pets...if that was a punishment.

"So I have to constantly move for you to see me entirely? Is that like magic or something?"

Doggo nodded in confirmation, while answering. The answer did elaborate slightly, which you appreciated greatly. You had to hand it to him, he was fairly perceptive when it came to social cues. He knew when and what to explain certain things. It was quite impressive for someone who couldn't actually see to the degree of most humans. It was a skill that you envied greatly. You were always jealous of the detective in the crime movies who could detect if someone was lying by simply analyzing the movements of their face. However, you couldn't detect a lie if it came behind and clubbed you over the head. "I got into a fight with someone and they hit me in the eyes with a magical attack. It made it so that everything was a colorless blob until it moves. When in closed environments, it's almost impossible to differentiate what is what. When they do move, I can see them in their entirety; that includes colors somehow. So yes, moving helps me see you."

So you were a blob to him until you moved. Since you weren't too keen on your apparent blobby appearance, you began to tap your foot. Years of practice from waiting around (your job gave you experience) taught you how to moderate your foot tappage so you could maximize your movement and endurance. A useless skill until now. You were surprised that he had managed to answer most of your questions with such a simple explanation. He must've been asked to explain many times before this. You couldn't help but feel bad for Doggo again. It must be awful to have to deal with horrendous vision. So he had gotten it from a fight with someone? Was he young when it happened? What was his life like before this, down in the underground? How did he have a job? What exactly was his job? How did he even get around in Ebbot-town? Even worse, how does he get around now?

"Umm, _... You're petting me."

OH SHIT! You must've been petting him during your pity party for him. It had to happen eventually. You noticed that he was facing away from you, with his paws nervously clutching each other. Those were clear signs of embarrassment. Oh god, you just made the situation extremely awkward. You retracted your hand while trying to think of a way to switch topics. You let him go first, but he just continued to stand there. After all, you knew what it was like to try to save face...if only he knew how. You had tango-ed with the floor several times in public while working your mop beforehand, so it managed to teach you. It always managed to be amusing to everyone but you. Did anyone offer assistance? Nope, they never did. That was to be expected though. After all, why should people care about a janitor who works for a robot who doesn't understand the value of a happy worker? Or a worker in general, for that matter.

Kicking his bag of dog treats with a loud thump, you sat down next to it. You were now determined to be fired. Maybe you would try to go to college and strive to become a vet, just like your entire family. That's what they originally wanted for you anyway. They had always had high expectations for you, but what did you expect? Living in a family of incredibly intelligent and successful people, also being the youngest and the only male, forced you into the situation where you had to make leaps and bounds in life just to even slightly reach their demands and expectations. Unlike the stereotypical family youngest child scenario, you appreciated what they did. You wouldn't have gotten this far in life if you hadn't had your family to support you. High school had been tough and your secret wish to enter the culinary field costed a hefty sum. You would have been in college, but the sheer amount of money required to enroll in your selected college was beyond your reach and you were refusing your family's direct monetary aid. You believed that you could get yourself there if you just stuck with the job and pushed forward. You had been saving money for a while. However, a question arose in your mind that you were quite keen on resolving. Pushing your dreams aside(just like every morning), you directed your attention back to Doggo.

"So, what are you going to do now? You don't have any laundry to wash."

To your shock, Doggo pushed the bag over to the side and sat down next to you. You instinctively inched away to give the monster some space. With a shrug, he stuck his hand into the bag and pulled out one of the treats. He twirled it around in his hand for a second while staring intensely at it. You naturally assumed he was inspecting it. Producing a lighter out of nowhere, he lit it and began smoking. How the hell? Where did that come from? That was the second time he produced an item out of nowhere. The first time were the clothes he washed the last time he was here. You reminded yourself of the unsatisfactory answer, "Magic". Why did that have to answer everything? Now that you started caring, it had become a thorn in your proverbial side. It did give you something to think about though. No wonder the documentaries and logs on the monsters were so popular.

He turned his head away and blew out some smoke, before turning towards you. You could smell the dog treat off of his breath. Strangely, it had the scent of fresh doughnuts. You weren't particularly sure those were actually dog treats The only place selling doughnuts was the local bakery in your district, one of the only places not owned by Mettaton. Then how did he get so many of them in this shape? You were certain that the bakery didn't sell doughnuts in the shape of bones, unless it was run by the skeleton who Mettaton would never shut up about. You didn't know what was worse, him ranting about how much better your employees were or how amazing his "Papyrus" was. He was seriously lovesick.

Doggo interrupted your thoughts with a sudden question. You were initially alarmed by the shocking shift in his voice. His voice had completely lost its gruffness and he sounded so much younger. You couldn't help but wonder what was inside those dog treats to make him sound so much younger. However, it did indeed confirm your thoughts that his voice was just a facade. Probably induced by stress, but a facade nonetheless. You didn't exactly know if you were proud or disappointed in yourself since the only reason you detected it being a facade was from your own voice work. Staying positive for potential customers was always a pain, but you eventually had gotten used to it. "So Mettaton is your boss, huh?"

You clenched your hands into fists while adorning your best smile. Just the name alone put you into your own facade; your's was oriented around work. His constant passive aggressive comments and the daily phone announcements on how each employee could be better rubbed you and the rest of the workers the wrong way. There wasn't anything anyone could do though. It seemed that he had control over ever single franchise and business in the district. Most of the fired employees left the third monster district (the one you were in) and found a different job in the zones populated by humans. There were only three monster districts out of the eight in this state. No one exactly knew if Mettaton's influence had wormed its way into the other two monster districts. It was a conundrum you couldn't solve without working there or asking Mettaton.

Deciding that Doggo had waited enough, you answered. You tried your absolute hardest to keep the loathing out of your voice for the second time that day. Good news: It failed. " _Yes_ , I work for that overzealous microwave of a boss. I swear, he's probably the only monster I'm not keen on. He just doesn't CARE about his workers. Even worse, I can't even leave this job! There isn't a location here in this district that isn't controlled by Mettaton, except the more obscure monster only workplaces in the area. I can't go to the other districts since I'll probably get lost. Doesn't help that I don't know anyone there. It's just frustrating, you know? Working at a shit job with opportunities ruined by a shit boss."

You hadn't noticed that he had left a paw on your shoulder throughout your rant. Your first thought was that he needed to know where you were due to the whole vision deal, but you realized that your foot hadn't stopped moving since you sat down. Turning towards him, he quickly removed it and reached into the bag. Pulling out a second dog treat, he offered it to you. You eyed him and the treat cautiously. The entire time, he was inspecting one of the adjacent washers. That would've normally worked with anyone else, but you knew that his eyes were shit. Was he embarrassed again? You realized that this decision might actually mean something to the bipedal dog monster. Overcoming your caution, you accepted the dog treat. You appreciated the thought, but it did make you wonder if it was safe to smoke these things. You had gotten this far without smoking; something that your past coworkers found to be a miracle. The stress itself was enough to drive a man like yourself to drink. Amazingly, you hadn't touched a drop of alcohol. You were indeed proud of yourself. In the eyes of an outsider, they would've seen it as a form of torture...and it was.

"Doggo, are you sure this is safe for me to smoke? It is a dog treat after all; key word being DOG." You hope that the species divider when it came to words didn't stop him from understanding your main point. You were honestly worried about dying from smoking something such as that. You never smoked before either, so you weren't sure if your body could actually handle a substance that was foreign on two fronts.

Finally turning towards you, he gave you a ruthless pat on the back. Slightly out of character, but you appreciated it. It showed that he wasn't worried even slightly. It didn't help you much though, since his friendly assault was much more powerful than what you had initially expected. Stopping yourself from lurching forward and listening to what he was saying was a feat worthy of the greatest Olympians. "Trust me, I know they're safe. I mean, unless you're allergic to magic and spiders."

He suddenly hunched inwards slightly as if he realized he had made a mistake. "You aren't allergic to magic and spiders, right? I mean, if you are I can take this back and-"

He had trailed off from worry, eventually mumbling to himself. His arms, which were openly extended from his body, pressed against the crook of their opposite elbows. His ears bent against his head and a faint whine was being emitted from his throat. How he made you feel bad for him like this was beyond you. Despite his age, he seemingly worried way too much.

You weren't put off by the spider thing in the slightest. Your interest in magical "food" was too great to be vanquished by a simple had eaten a lot worse in your life, after all. The worst naturally went to the Century Egg that a friend in high school had given you. You couldn't look at another egg for months. It wasn't worth the twenty bucks in the slightest. Wait, was it even possible to be allergic to magic? You found his worrying and rambling to be charming, in the weirdest sense. You weren't sure what was coming over you. Must be the stress of the job. Definitely. It wasn't like you were falling for a dog monster who you weren't even familiar with. That would just be absurd, right? Way too cliche for your tastes.

"Nah man, it's fine. Mind offering your lighter? I don't normally smoke, but I'll make an exception for this. I've always wanted to try some form of magical consumable. I don't think the glamburgers in this district count as magic. It's mostly glitter and glue. How people live off of that shit will always baffle me."

He sat up straight after you had cast aside his worries and his eyes lit up with excitement. He was bouncing up and down like you had told him that you bought him a house. His sheer glee alone made your day entirely worth it. How he could suddenly become so positive in a stressful location baffled you. Apparently, many things baffled you. You heard a faint thumping, which you then noticed was his tail rapidly hitting the floor. You clearly had him excited for something. That or he was absurdly happy that you were about to other situations, that would've been worrisome. Here, it just made you want to pet him more. Was that a normal reaction towards the dog monster? You reminded yourself to ask him that later.

He summoned the lighter out of nowhere and offered it to you. You told yourself not to think about the sudden appearances of objects. Gladly accepting it, you inspected the design embedded into the side. The entire unit was made out of some sort of heavy white metal, with there being a silver and blue insignia on the side. It appeared to be a large shield with three triangles at the bottom. On the upper section of the shield was a winged dot of some form. You had no idea what it represented or what it meant. Just another thing to ask him later. It was clearly important for you remember seeing it constantly on the Royal Family. Was he a guard? He wasn't exactly a goat-like creature, so he mustn't be a relative. Flipping the top open, you lit the dog treat. You tossed him the lighter, which was probably unnecessary since he was sitting right next to you. He seemed to enjoy the process of catching, for he quickly tossed it back. You were too busy staring at the treat to actually receive it, so it only collided onto your cheek and landed onto the floor with a soft clang. He didn't seem to notice that he hit you with it. You certainly did, but you weren't going to beat the monster down because of it.

With a heavy sigh, you placed the treat into your mouth. You were amazed and entirely shocked once you sucked in. The fumes and the apparent heat that was emanating from them flowed through your body, forcing you to untense. It felt like you were being submerged into an ocean of suns. That's if sun actually consisted of liquids instead of a giant collection of burning gas. Slumping back against the machine, you sighed again, but this time from content. You hadn't felt this relaxed in years. No wonder Doggo had a stash of these things; they worked miracles. Doggo gave you an understanding nod once you visibly relaxed. "I told you. I don't know what Muffet puts in these things, but they are simply fantastic. I'm sure that I was the biggest contributor to her bake sale back in the Underground. Now with the bakery being established, I pay for boxes of 'em. Apparently her other food has the same affect. However, I'm not going to smoke a doughnut. That would just be weird."

You may or may not have snorted at the mental image of him smoking a doughnut. It would indeed be hilarious to see the grown monster lifting a lighter to the pastry. However, you didn't agree with his views towards it. "Weird? You seriously think smoking a doughnut would be weird? Trust me, some of us have smoked weirder things. Some people just grab whatever is on the floor and stick them into a bag, which they then light on fire. The smoke from said bag is then inhaled. It's absurd. Anyway, if they knew what smoking that said doughnut would do, they wouldn't even cast a judging look your way. I swear, if I had these things a year ago, I probably wouldn't hate my job so much. Well, it's mostly my boss, but you get the point." Didn't he understand that their society was unusual as it was, so no one would really bat an eye towards him.

Doggo nodded again, before suddenly jolting up. Holding up a paw to stop you from asking questions, he pulled out a small mobile phone out of nowhere, which was still bugging you. His paws easily dwarfed the absurdly small flip-phone. When did he get a phone? Better question: Why did he have a phone? If he couldn't see anything that wasn't moving, how would he text? He subconsciously answered your question by tilting the phone side to side while typing. It looked like he was one of the stars in the older console commercials; the ones where some kids were flailing around their hands while mashing buttons on a controller, but everyone knew they clearly weren't playing anything. With nothing else to do, you went back to smoking your dog treat. You never thought that you would ever think of such a strange action.

An unknown time had passed before he looked up from his phone and popped a quick "rhetorical" question. "If you had to fill a job resume for a job that could take anything, what would you put as your list of skills?" You couldn't stop yourself from wondering why he had asked a question like that, even if it was rhetorical. It struck a bit too close to home considering you were at your workplace.

That was an unusual question, but a fair one. Maybe he was attempting to find a job for you or something along those lines. If he did, you don't think you could hold yourself back from petting him for doing such a considerate action. You weren't normally affectionate, but dammit, hugging him would probably feel weird...and he technically was a dog. He had been showing signs of instinctual dog behavior, so you assumed that being pet was enjoyable as well as not being as weird as before. You knew for sure that monster culture was insanely different from your normal society. The monster's were much more "open" with how they feel, so why shouldn't you be? Forcing yourself to get back on track, you tried to think of what skills you could claim you had. Janitorial work had taught you how to clean correctly, so there was that. But was there anything else? You could mention your original goal of going to Culinary School, but there wasn't any point in talking about long forgotten dreams. At least it taught you how to cook. There must've been something else though. Your lackluster veterinarian knowledge wasn't even worth mentioning and you were pretty sure that acting isn't useful for this.

After a while, you focused on two things in particular; your main skills, as they were. Nothing to be too particularly proud of, but still. "I've been a janitor for quite some time and I know how to cook pretty damn well. That's literally about it. I'm not know for my wide variety of skills."

With a soft hum, he turned back to the phone while you returned to the dog treat. Once it had gotten the end of its length, it vanished in a puff of dust. Swirls of purple magic were released with its disappearance, which slowly twirled and faded into the air. Thus, you decided that all magic food was fucking fantastic. If you had known that their food could do this, you would've been ordering delivery for a year or so. Despite your own curiosity, you never actually tried monster food until now. Considering it, you technically still haven't eaten monster food. Smoking doesn't count as eating, right?You felt yourself already missing the warmth the dog treat had given you, but you weren't too keen on becoming addicted. You eyed your mop in the corner of the room and you remembered that you had a job to do.

You braced your knees as you attempted to get up, but you were stopped by the paw of Doggo. He had apparently finished while you admired the magical properties of the dog treat. You looked at where his paw was grasping your arm, before shrugging and sitting back down. With a smile, he began to speak. He clearly was up to something, if his wolfish grin was sign to go off of. "So, I was talking to a friend of mine who owns a business in one of the other monster districts. He's been looking for help ever since his last employee moved out of town. Once I told Grillby that you were unhappy with your job, he asked me about what your skill range was. It might've been a hard sell with just the janitor deal, but your cooking experience should secure that job for you. That is, of course, if you want it." The conniving dog monster had done it. He had actually attempted to help you with a problem. You were shocked, which was promptly shown in your voice.

"HOLY HASTUR IN A HAND BASKET, YES!"

You may or may not have yelled the answer louder than you should've, given the situation. It was just too hard to keep quiet once hearing his news. He had found you a potential job. He had gone through the effort to actually help you solve your shitty occupation situation. That was much more than any of the other customers, workers, or bosses had done before. Then again, this was technically the first monster who you had actively communicated with who wasn't a robot. What a good introduction too! If all monsters were like this, then you wouldn't mind moving further into the monster districts. You potentially had a job there anyway, so it would make the commute easier. You had been saving money, but it was intended for college. However, if this new job was better than your current one, which was pretty easy to beat, you could just save money up again. That would put you back a few years, but being a vet didn't exactly require you to be young. You internally debated if twenty one was really an old age. You reminded yourself that you had only graduated high school a few years prior.

Once Doggo recovered himself from his launch into the air via scaredom, he gave you a warm smile. You yourself were too busy laughing at him to truly pay attention to his clear signs of excitement. He must've known that you would say yes even before asking. Were you really that obvious with your disdain for your job? Most likely yes. You had gotten several comments about it while working a day , Mettaton hadn't heard of this clear violating of the rules yet. You shudder at the thought of what he would do to you if he found out. Probably involve a lecture on proper employee etiquette and other punishments following suit. They wouldn't be so bad if you didn't have to hear them at the end of EVERY shift. As it was once said, repetition ruins the best of jokes and your job was certainly a joke. Wasn't even a funny one, too.

"Good then! I'll tell him that you are willing."

He promptly returned to the phone being held in his paws. Despite your earlier mental claims, you weren't actually going to pet him. It had been awkward the last time you had, so you didn't want to put him in that situation again. You finally managed to catch your breath as you noticed the growing feeling of restlessness that was slowly creeping into your mind, despite your mental refusal to accept it. As much as you hate to admit it, you were growing tired from sitting down and doing nothing. You thoroughly enjoyed Doggo's company, but you did have a job to do...even if said job was indeed shit. You hadn't even made a resume for this new potential job. Until then, you were stuck with pointing towards the new dispenser. Yes, it was much worse than sitting around with Doggo, but it WAS work. If Mettaton decided to suddenly show up like he tends to do randomly, you would be fired on the spot. That or you would be forced to work the night again. Either way, you weren't risking it on an "if" job at the moment despite the tantalizing opportunity to free yourself from doing nothing. That was until he gives you information about the job. Then you would be perfectly fine with ditching the laundromat.

Yet again, your progress was halted by Doggo. Why he was so insistent on stopping you from leaving was beyond you. This time, he had forced a sheet of paper into your hand. If he was asking you to throw it away like some of the assholes who came by at night did occasionally, then he would lose a decent chunk of brownie points with you. You hoped that what you expected wasn't the case though. He wouldn't be that rude, would he? He didn't seem to be someone of that caliber. If so, then you were absolutely terrible at reading someone and their personality.

"Here's my number in case you have any more questions about the job. Send me a message telling me when you are ready and I'll tell you when you can try out for the job. I've got to go now though; the others are probably thinking that I got lost again. They are normally right in that regard. Nice talking to you though! Oh...sorry about the bell, by the way. I can pay for it if you want me to!" You silently released a sigh of relief at the paper's verbal identification, before your breath suddenly caught itself in your throat. You hadn't expected this in the slightest!

He had just given you his number! Breathing in slightly,you had to remind yourself that it was probably only for work. You tried to steady your heart as you responded, unable to hide the excitement from your voice. "No, it's fine. Like I said, I'm intent on being fired from my job. The bell just reminded me of it! Thanks for the number though! I'll talk to you about the job tonight." Today continued to get better for you. First a new potential job, then a way to communicate with Doggo. Your potential enjoyment from the latter wasn't just because you may or may not have a slight crush on him, nope(Which you assured yourself that you didn't have, since that would be weird). The reason with the most hold was that he was simply a joy to talk to. He just had this aura around him, when he wasn't tense like stressed rubber, that seemingly calmed you. You mentally noted to research the effects that monster's had on nearby humans, if there were any.

With that, he was off with a nod. He may or may not have slammed into the door, but you didn't hold it against him. He certainly was something. Maybe you would call about that job sooner than later. Hell, you decided to do it now. There wasn't much for you to do anyway, and Mettaton hadn't said you could talk on the phone. Screw insinuations. You hadn't been able to ask questions since his departure was too sudden, so you used that as your excuse. Looking down at the paper, you became crestfallen. His handwriting, or paw-writing, was dreadful! You couldn't make out a single number. Giant looping scribbles tarnished the normally plain surface of the paper. His writing could've passed for a doctor's. He had already left the building, so you would have to break the rules again to get his number. Mettaton would surely know if you left the building when on the job, which means that you would most certainly be fired. He was absurdly strict on that rule in particular. It was either get Doggo's number and get a new job, or stick with your current job and wait until Doggo showed up again. Glancing towards your assigned post for a split-second, you clamored up and ran out the door, after Doggo and, more importantly, his number. It wasn't something you gave yourself much time to think about. You weren't always able to handle your lack of patience and he was heading down the sidewalk away from the laundromat. Those, and you might already be missing his company. So all in all, an easy choice and one that you would later thank yourself for.


End file.
